A Friendly Wager
by ChelsieSouloftheAbbey
Summary: In which Charles and Elsie Carson have a wee bit of a competition at the fair. Who will win, and what will be the prize? Pure fluff for ozzlover, from whom the prompt came. x


**A/N: This is a one-shot for ozzlover, who very thoughtfully sent me a prompt earlier this week. I was THRILLED to receive it and honored that she'd ask me to write anything, really, as I don't get a lot of requests.**

 **Simply put, the theme was about Elsie and Charles - 1926 or after - going to the fair, where a friendly little competition would ensue. Ahem ... I expanded. Shocker. My thanks to Hogwarts Duo for looking it over for me.**

 **Stylistically, the first chunk focuses on Charles and the second, Elsie.**

 **Read on, fair friends, and please leave a little review if you're so inclined. Thanks! Hugs to you, Ozz!**

 **xx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

 _ **Late May, 1927**_

There was a warm breeze in the afternoon air as Charles Carson approached the Abbey. He hummed a bit as he walked, a determination in his stride that almost belied his inner calm; to the outside world, from a distance, he still looked every bit the stalwart butler: tall of stature, posture perfect, purposeful stride, and attentive to everything around him. But, upon closer inspection, those who knew the man would be able to see the slight changes that a year of marriage had effected. His suit was a bit looser, thanks to the long walks he took almost daily. His skin was slightly tanned, a result of working in the garden - a new pastime that he'd been pleased to discover he enjoyed immensely. But perhaps the most noticeable change was how his hair appeared softer; this was thanks to a request from his lovely wife, who had asked him a few months prior to apply less of the pomade now that he was retired, making it easier for her to run her fingers through his silver locks whenever she felt the urge. Oh, yes ... Anyone could see that he was clearly still Mr. Carson, the former butler, but he was now very much Charles, the husband, as well.

As he entered the servants' courtyard, he stopped in his tracks and looked about. Echoes of bicycle bells and delivery lorries sounded faintly in his mind, whispers of days gone by when the Abbey was twice as busy and employed three times more staff. Nowadays, it was just the housekeeper, cook, and butler who were there full-time; the Bateses split their time between the Abbey and London, depending on the needs of Lord and Lady Grantham and Lady Mary, and the rest of the staff were day workers - a footman and two housemaids, all of whom were home for supper every evening and off on Sundays.

All in all, the house itself just didn't seem to be the same. Gone were the days of big parties, of young ladies coming out and visitors arriving from far and wide; now things were settling into a new pace, one of quiet and of grandchildren. Time was marching on, indeed; now that he was retired, Charles thought he just _might_ be getting used to the idea, but the quiet of the courtyard was difficult for him at times, too ... a reminder that so many of the people who'd filled his life were now gone, that the years were flying by, and that he was barely managing to keep up.

It was this sentiment that had him showing up at the door of the Abbey this afternoon, three hours prior to the usual time when he would normally gather his wife and accompany her home. It was time to seize the day, and today was a special day, without a doubt ... for today, the fair was in town.

Charles had seen Elsie eyeing the advertisement on the board in town two weeks ago; he'd spied her peering at it once again when they'd gone for dinner at the Grantham Arms five evenings ago; he'd overheard her discussing it with Daisy two days ago; and, last night, he'd brought it up over a glass of wine ...

" _I hear the fair is in town tomorrow."_

" _Is it? How nice."_

" _Mm. Yes, well … I wondered if you'd like to go?"_

" _Oh, no, that's quite alright, love. I know you don't care for it. A nice, quiet evening at home is just fine by me."_

He'd seen the wistful look in her eye and had cast his memory back to the last time she'd gone to the fair on a gentleman's arm. The memory of that long-ago day had spawned a plan in his mind for today - a small change of their usual routine, permission for which had been granted just hours before by Lady Grantham herself.

Charles reached out and pushed the door open. From the first day he'd arrived to pick Elsie up after having retired himself, he'd been forbidden to actually _knock_ on the door: _"You're still a member of the downstairs family, Mr. Carson; please, just come right in whenever you wish,"_ Mr. Barrow had told him. Charles wasn't sure which felt stranger, knocking or not, but the choice had been removed from his hands. Smiling, he stepped into the servants' hall.

"Mr. Carson!"

"Hello, Daisy - erm, Mrs. Mason," he said with a smile.

"Aw, Mr. Carson - we've gone through all of that. I were only ever 'Daisy' to you. Please," she encouraged him, and he nodded.

"As you wish." He rubbed his hands together and peered down the corridor.

"She's down there, alright; Anna just brought her some tea. Go on," Daisy said with a tilt of her head.

Charles smiled his thanks at the young cook and headed for his wife's parlour, walking slowly and appreciating all that _hadn't_ changed around the place: the feel of the woodwork under his fingertips, the way the light glinted off the shining surfaces, the smells of the silver polish mixed with whatever Daisy was cooking … and the bright, fresh floral scent as he poked his head through Elsie's doorway and rapped his knuckles lightly on the door.

She turned around as she called a soft _"Come in!"_ and her smile brightened the room.

"Charles!" She jumped up from her seat and met him halfway across the room, placing a firm kiss to his cheek as he leaned down toward her and gathered her in his arms. "Whatever are you doing here at _this_ hour?"

"What do you think? I'm here to escort my girl to the fair."

"The _fair?_ Charles, we aren't going to the fair," she said, slowly, as though explaining something to a child. "We never _really_ discussed going at all, and I've got to get through the rest of all this." She gave a slight wave of the hand toward the collection of items on her desk, but her husband just smiled and shook his head.

"My dear Elsie, did you actually believe I'd think you didn't want to go? Now," he said, motioning toward her chair as he reached for another to pull up alongside, "let's see if we can't get through all of _that_ together, if you'd not mind my help. This way, we can leave a clean desk behind for you and enjoy the rest of our day."

"But my meeting today with Lady Grantham -" she began.

"Has been postponed until tomorrow morning," he interrupted with a gleam in his eye. "And she assures me that you shall still have your half-day tomorrow _and_ the full one after that as well … something about how you missed one last week, which I know to be true. Now, shall we?"

He waited for her to sit, smiling when she pulled her lip under her teeth and shook her head at him. He watched patiently as she rolled her eyes and sat, and he took his own seat when a pat of her hand on the second chair called him over to join her.

Charles scanned the papers in front of them, invoices in which she'd been practically elbow-deep when he'd arrived. "My word, Elsie," he teased, "one would think you've been rather distracted lately."

He flinched slightly as she swatted at him playfully. "I wonder why? Ah, yes … could be the fact that I've become housemaid and laundry maid in addition to housekeeper! Now, are you going to help, or are you going to criticize?"

The glint in her eyes told Charles she was only teasing him back, and he hazarded a glance toward the doorway before leaning over and wrapping his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close, and placing a lingering kiss to her temple.

"What can I do, Els?"

"Take these," she said, sifting through a few bills, "and just match them up with these." She handed him a list of orders placed within the last two weeks. "I'll finish up this pile, and we should be done in no time."

"Right you are," he said, pulling his newly-purchased spectacles out of his breast pocket. "Here we go."

Elsie looked at him fondly, and rested a hand over his slightly-trembling one. "Thank you," she said simply. "You are quite marvelous, in case you didn't know."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled at the compliment, and then turned and set himself to completing the task at hand.

 **oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

It wasn't an hour later that Elsie found herself on her husband's arm, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders from the moment they'd crossed the threshold to the servants' courtyard. She always considered that door a physical representation of when she could cease being _Mrs. Hughes_ and return to being _Mrs. Carson_ once again. But today was even better, she felt, and a brilliant smile graced her features as she thought of herself in the way Charles had described her earlier: his girl, on his arm, on their way to the fair.

 _It's like we're teenagers, for Heaven's sake_ , she chided herself … but she couldn't be happier if she tried.

She squeezed his arm, and he hummed at her, a question in his tone.

"Oh, nothing," she sighed happily. "Just thinking of how lucky I am. It's not every day that a handsome man shows up to escort me to the fair, Charlie."

"It has been a while," he mused, and she laughed lightly.

"Yes, if by _a while_ you mean _never,"_ she said.

"Oh," he mused, and she could see he was deep in thought, "I seem to recall you attending one years ago on the arm of another gentleman, coming home with a smile on your face and a prize in your hand."

"Ah," she replied fondly. "Well, technically, I met him there; I was not escorted by anyone. And I couldn't very well refuse the prize after he'd been lucky enough to win it, could I?"

She felt the slight tremor pass through his hand and felt him reach over with his other hand and clasp the fingers she'd wrapped around his arm. "Charles?"

"Oh, don't mind me," he said.

"Charles Carson! Don't tell me you're jealous of the man that I purposely did _not_ marry because I was too busy waiting around for _you!"_

He stopped dead in his tracks. "Wait … What did you say?"

She couldn't help rolling her eyes and smiling fondly at him.

"Oh, you daft man," she whispered, reaching up and cupping his cheek in her warm, soft hand. "You really are an old booby, aren't you? I could never have left you, Charles. You'd stolen my heart long before that day; it was only that it took me a trip to the fair and seeing Joe again to realize it."

She saw his eyes fill and patted his chest. "Now, none of that. I thought you were bringing me out for a fun-filled afternoon? I suddenly feel in the mood for something very sweet, and perhaps a bit of a game."

"A game?" he asked. "What sort of game?"

Elsie took his arm again and they continued on their way, the sounds of the fairgrounds now audible to her ears.

"Oh, I don't know," she mused. "Something …"

"I'm quite good at the ball toss," he said. "Juggling, you know … good judge of the weight of the ball in my hand."

"Ooh, yes, I think I'd like that one," Elsie agreed. "I used to be an excellent shot when we'd play on the farm."

Her husband laughed, causing Elsie to cock her head and look at him a bit strangely. "What is it?"

Patting her hand, Charles said, "The farm was quite a long time ago, my dear."

She licked her lips, then nodded slowly. "It was, yes. And? What of it?"

"Just that I'd be happy to win a prize for my lovely wife," he replied, and she could tell from his tone that he regretted the words he'd uttered just seconds before.

" _I'm_ perfectly capable of winning you a prize, you know," she said, a bit bristled despite her knowledge that her husband's intentions were only kind.

And then she had a _marvelous_ idea. As she bit down on her lip, her smile broadening, she saw a flicker of unease in her husband's colorful eyes.

"Charles," she said slowly, in a voice that she knew would earn no argument from him, "what do you say to a little … competition?"

She watched as he swallowed with some difficulty, and she smirked as he loosened his collar a bit.

"A competition?"

She nodded. "Mm-hm. A competition."

She had to stop talking as they entered the fairgrounds, and she smiled and nodded at the man by the gate to whom Charles paid their admission.

"Enjoy yourselves!" the man said jovially to them. "And, if I may," he added with a wink, "I wouldn't underestimate your wife, sir."

"Oh, don't you worry," Charles answered with a smile. "I've got it under control."

Elsie waited until they were out of earshot of the man before pulling Charles to the side of the path.

"Under control?" she asked. "Really? Well, then, you won't mind a little _wager_ to go along with our competition, will you, Charles?"

"Of course not. What did you have in mind?"

"Well," she said thoughtfully, pursing her lips. "If _you_ win, then I'll ... " Her eyes brightened, and she lowered her voice to a whisper, "I'll visit Mrs. Hudson's shoppe in Ripon and make a new purchase."

"The one where you bought your …?" His eyes widened, and he glanced about to be sure no one was listening before adding, "The red one I love so much?"

"Precisely." She raised an eyebrow at him, a smile playing about her lips, and she could sense that he'd become suspicious, that he knew he was backed into some sort of as-yet-unidentified corner … and that he realized there would be no escape.

"And, erm, if _you_ win? What could I possibly do for you that would be the equal? Perhaps … perhaps I could make dinner for you, hm? It might not be _too_ disastrous …"

Elsie shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

"Dinner out?"

"No, but it's a lovely thought. No, Charles, I think that … if _I_ win … I'd like a kiss. A sweet, meaningful kiss from my adoring husband." She giggled, and he was puzzled.

"A kiss?" he repeated. "But, Elsie, I kiss you all the time," he said softly. "So I don't see how ..."

"Oh, Charles," she cooed - and he knew he was sunk. "You misunderstand me. A kiss, _here,_ in front of _all these people,"_ she said gleefully, indicating the milling fair-goers with a sweep of her hand.

" _Here?"_ he whispered. "Surely not."

"There isn't anything wrong with a husband kissing his wife, Charles," she admonished. And, with that, she abruptly turned and started heading toward the carousel. "Come on, then!" she called, patting one of the horses on the head. "Help me up?"

He gave in and joined her, helping her up on her horse before quite gracefully climbing atop his own.

Elsie watched him effortlessly mount the carousel horse. "I often forget that you used to ride," she said fondly.

"Well, I don't get much chance to. Not that these are much like the real thing, are they?"

She laughed. "They certainly are not! Although, that's probably for the best. It's been a good, long while since I've ridden the real thing."

The ride started, and Elsie began humming along with the carousel music. As they spun around, she took the time to look at the offerings at the fair, smiling and even laughing with delight as she spotted fire-throwers, stilt-walkers, and various food stalls. She thought she spotted an acrobat, and she spied at least five stalls with games, including the one she wanted. And then she turned toward her husband, who tried much too late to hide the fierce look of love that had completely overtaken his own face. Biting down on her lip, she flushed under his intense gaze, tearing her own brilliant blue eyes away from him before she said or did something they'd _both_ regret in this most public of places.

The ride ended, and Elsie took her husband's hand as he assisted her back down to the ground.

"Perhaps one day we _can_ go riding," she suggested, almost shyly. "I think I'd rather enjoy a day on horseback, exploring a wooded trail with my handsome husband by my side."

"Well, perhaps once you officially retire, we can do just that," he returned.

The moved on and purchased something to eat and two mugs of fresh cider, and then meandered up and down the paths between the booths, examining the wares from a few of the vendors and stopping to watch a couple of the magicians. Elsie delighted in the look on her husband's face, gleeful in how she could tell just by his expression when it was, precisely, that he figured out how each trick was done. They applauded the second of the two magicians most enthusiastically, and the young man took a bow. Elsie felt Charles place his hand at the small of her back, and they moved back toward the game stalls.

"Now, my dear, have you chosen your game?"

"The ball toss is over there," she said, indicating the stall she'd spied earlier. "You're sure you're up for this, Mr. Carson?"

He laughed, a rumbling sound that Elsie never tired of hearing. "Oh, yes. I'm sure."

"Step right up!" the barker called. "Knock 'em all down, win a prize for your lovely lass!"

" _Two_ games, please," Charles said. "At the same time, if you don't mind."

"Ah, a competition, eh? Well, why not?" The man winked at Elsie, and she marveled at how her husband kept his cool.

"Three tries to knock 'em all down in one toss," the man explained.

Elsie and Charles nodded, and they each took up their first ball. Elsie looked at the cans up on her stand. _A rather sturdy looking pile, indeed,_ she thought. Gazing over to Charles's, she verified that they looked the same, and she saw him gesture toward her.

"Ladies first," he smirked.

She flicked her eyebrows upward - _Challenge met!_ \- and tossed … and toppled four of the six, sending the top can flying off the back of the stall.

"Well done!" the gentleman exclaimed. "Not quite well _enough,_ but that was a great throw!" He looked over at Charles. "If you're in a true competition here, then I'm afraid you've got a job ahead of you!"

Charles smiled. He waited for the man to reset Elsie's cans and then took his first throw, besting five of his six with a remarkable shot aimed at the base of the pyramid.

"Ohh, almost!" Elsie squealed, thrilled that she'd be able to take her second toss.

When everything was ready, she aimed her second ball carefully. She managed to hit her intended target perfectly, and both she and Charles shrieked as all six of her cans toppled, the sound followed immediately by her groan as one of them remained on the dais. She muttered under her breath, and then was surprised by a voice from behind.

"Careful now, Mrs. Carson. I wouldn't want Sybbie to pick up _that_ particular bit of Scottish idiom."

Elsie turned swiftly. "Mr. Branson!" she exclaimed, flushing scarlet even as she tried to keep from laughing. "I'm so sorry."

"And determined to win?" he guessed.

"Yes! Mr. Carson and I have a bit of a wager on this one," she explained.

"And may I ask the terms, or is it a private wager?" he teased, giving her a wink.

"Oh, that's perhaps better left unsaid, Mr. Branson," she replied, her laugh escaping her mouth now as she saw the look on her husband's face. "Your turn, Charles," she added.

He spun the ball a few times in his hand, took careful aim, and pitched … and all six cans went flying off the stand.

"We have a winner!" the game attendant shouted. "Well done, sir!"

"Oh, bravo, Charlie!" Elsie exclaimed, grasping his arm and reveling in his clear delight.

"A prize for your lady, _Charlie,"_ the attendant said, showing those available with a wave of his hand.

Charles examined the offerings, but left the choice to his wife. "Well, Elsie? A prize for my girl, as the man said. Which do you prefer?"

She flashed him a brilliant smile and then looked over the offerings. Her eyes lingered for a moment on a scarecrow, an eerie reminder of her time at the fair with Joe so many years ago; Charles noticed, but he didn't say a word.

"Oh," she finally uttered. "Look at the lovely fan!"

"A folding fan for the lady!" The attendant took the fan off of the wall of the stall, opened it with a flourish, and fanned himself with it, blinking his eyes exaggeratedly and making everyone laugh. He then closed it sharply and handed it over to Elsie, giving her a little bow.

She turned and beamed at her husband. "Thank you, Char- "

But her words were cut off as he swept her up in his arms and planted a loving - and lingering - kiss to her lips, his large hands cradling her head. Moments later, and breathless, she broke away from him; hand still resting on his chest, she gasped, "Charlie! But … I _lost."_

"Yes, you did," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "And I won … and much more than just this game, Elsie. You see, I've won your heart, your admiration, and your unwavering care and support. That still has me bursting with pride even now, and I find that I no longer care _who_ sees it on display."

Tom Branson just stood watching them, and looked to the ground for a moment, slightly overwhelmed at the very forthright declaration of love. But he then reached for Elsie's elbow and squeezed it gently.

"Congratulations to you _both,"_ he said meaningfully. "I'll see you back at the Abbey day after tomorrow."

Elsie turned to him - a smile still gracing her face - and nodded. "I'll see you then, Mr. Branson."

As Elsie clutched her fan in one hand and took Charles's arm with the other, she sighed happily.

"You still manage to surprise me, love, even after all these years," she marveled. "I'm not quite sure how you do it."

"Well," he said softly as they made their way to the gate, "it's in a butler's nature to keep secrets. I suppose I've never really lost the knack for it."

"And do you have _more_ secrets tucked up your sleeve?" Elsie teased.

"Perhaps. Now, I believe there's one small thing left to plan."

"Oh?" Elsie asked with a smile, her blue eyes brilliant with mirth. "And what, pray tell, might that be?"

"You know very well what that might be," he laughed. "When do you think we might head into Ripon for _my_ prize?"

Elsie joined him in laughter as she tucked her body a bit closer to his own, his warmth radiating off of him in a most comforting way.

"Well," she said seductively, the sounds of the fair growing quieter behind them as they headed back to the cottage, "I think tomorrow. I've that half-day, when we can _obtain_ the prize, and that's followed by my full day off … when I'll be more than happy to try it out."

"Mrs. Carson," he answered, pulling her hand up and placing a kiss to her knuckles, "I think that's a _perfect_ plan."

 _ **FIN**_


End file.
